


More Than Friends

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-19
Updated: 2009-06-19
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: Harry wants more...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Hex Files](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Hex_Files), which was closed for financial and health reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Hex Files collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thehexfiles/profile).

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, they’d spend more time shagging and less time hunting for Horcruxes. 

This is a gift for my dear friend, Bubba, on the occassion of his birthday.

More Than Friends

Harry ran a hand over the thin cotton of his shirt and across his nipple, then tweaked it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand trailed down his stomach from his navel to slide into the sparse map of hair that led into his briefs. It was soft and tickled as he ghosted his fingers over it. He could feel his erection throbbing against his trousers; straining, unrelenting pressure against his zip. He pressed his palm against the bulge. 

"Oh gods, yes!" he moaned, hips rising off the couch. 

Slowly, Harry began to undo the buttons on his jeans. One by one they popped open, his hand brushing against his cock with each movement. 

He found himself wishing that the hand belonged to someone else, wishing in the most secret part of himself, the part that he only indulged within the privacy of his own mind, that the fingers were long and thin and elegant, the hand soft but firm.

Only in that privacy could he admit who he wanted, what he wanted.

He pushed until his jeans were below his knees and he stopped. His head fell forward, his breathing was shallow and hot against his chest as he struggled for a bit of composure. He imagined a lover running his fingers through the dark hair that surrounded his prick. His touch was so light against his erection, it felt ethereal. It was too much and yet not enough. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and squeezed, his hips bucked again.

His hand gripped tighter and began to slide roughly up and down his cock. Harry swiped his thumb over the tip to spread the drops of pre-come gathered there down the shaft, to ease his movements. Each upward stroke raised his foreskin over the head, building delicious friction again. Harry reached down with his free hand and tugged on his balls, easing the coil of tension that was already building in his gut.

He closed his eyes, one hand pumping his cock up and down, while the other teased his slit. His legs tried to open wider, only to be hampered by the jeans still gathered at his knees. He opened his eyes and raised a leg in frustration, attempting to pull it free from the denim confines. Finally he pushed them down with the opposite knee, and kicked until both legs were free. He fell back against the couch, legs spread wide and hand pumping in a steady rhythm. He closed his eyes again and his free hand traced a nonsensical pattern on his inner thigh before moving to cup his balls. He rolled them in his palm and then moved his hand back to caress the sensitive skin that lead to his arse. 

Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his thin cotton shirt was damp. He slid to his knees in front of the sofa, stripped off the shirt and grasped his cock. He thrust his hips forward, imagining he was buried deep in his lover. His hand slid back and he teased himself, running a finger around the wrinkled opening he wanted someone to fuck. 

His hands caressed his body, eliciting moans as he gripped his cock with both hands and thrust his hips forward on the downward stroke of his hands. His movements were hard and fast and the pre-come trickled onto his hands, lubricating them as they rubbed against his prick. 

Harry paused, just long enough to stave off his orgasm and to slide back onto the couch. He sat with his feet planted on the floor, legs spread wide and cock curling tightly to his belly. He ran his hands over his nipples, pinching and then twisting them until they were raised, red pebbles on his chest. One hand toyed with the top of his cock, rubbing the clear liquid in on the soft dome. Then he rolled his thumb over the bottom of his prick, just below the head and his body quivered. 

Eyes closed, head back, Harry's hand stroked faster and faster. His hips moved up and down, up and down. His grip was relentless, pulling, tugging, while that curl of emotion returned, starting in his chest and surging down to his balls and he orgasmed.

"Draco!" he cried out as the hot, wet, white pearly strands coated his chest, his hand and a drop or two shot to his cheek.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the hot flow of frustrated tears that threatened to fall and promised himself that one day soon he'd admit to Draco that he really wanted to be much more than friends.


End file.
